The Fine Print
by promisedblueskies
Summary: At twenty-three, they have their whole lives to live and plan to spend them together. At twenty-eight, Chloe's a widow with a young daughter who can't remember her dad. A forgotten prophecy provides a way to bring Alek back to life.
1. Prologue

**Title:** The Fine Print  
><strong>Author:<strong> promisedblueskies  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T, will eventually be M  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> "Nine Lives of Chloe King," Chloe/Alek  
><strong>Summary:<strong> At twenty-three, Chloe and Alek think they have their whole lives in front of them, and plan to spend them together. At twenty-eight, Chloe finds herself a widow and the mother of a young daughter who can't remember her father. A forgotten prophecy provides Chloe with a way to remedy this and bring Alek back to life.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Character death, graphic violence.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The prologue and first chapter are both pretty short, in order to introduce the plot, so I'm going to post them together, but future chapters will likely be longer.

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><p>.<p>

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It's a rainy day when she buries him. It's fairly typical of March in San Francisco, really, starting off bright and sunny but nothing is as it seems. Even early in the morning, when the sky hadn't posed a threat, there'd been a chill in the air. There hadn't been any rain in the forecast and yet it had started to drizzle as mourners filed into church, and by the time the hearse had arrived at the cemetery, the rain had fallen angrily from the sky in sheets.

She doesn't remember much from that day, though, or the days immediately preceding it. Even now, over five years later, the details are a blur. Bits and pieces float through her mind, disjointed, like snapshots when you're expecting a film. With Jasmine's help, she's been able to piece most of it together, but the memories themselves don't come.

Jasmine had been an invaluable resource in those early days, both in uncovering the details she couldn't remember and in keeping her safe. She does remember Jasmine flanking her as the casket was lowered into the ground, the other woman's arms coming up to rest on her shoulders as she draped a coat over them.

It's funny how memory works, though. She has flashes of moments where her memory is so clear it hurts, and then whole hours surrounding those flashes that she wants to remember and can't. She remembers the other time Jasmine slipped a coat over her shoulders, too, a few days earlier. It had been raining then, too, and the coat had been Jasmine's own. Jasmine had stood to her right, trying to block her view of the scene only yards away. It was all for naught, though, because they'd been standing at the bottom of the hill and she hadn't actually had to remember what had occurred at the top. Red streams swirled around their feet as rain mixed with blood above them.

She remembers the fear, too, so clearly that she still wakes up sweating in the middle of the night sometimes. She remembers the cool flash of mental against her skin, the trickle of blood running down her neck, and later, the shooting pain and iron smell as the blade sliced her abdomen, right before she passed out.

Her counselor tells her it's a defense mechanism, the lack of memory, that some things are just too painful to recall. She remembers the pain, though, all too clearly; the knife had been nothing in comparison to waking up in that dirty abandoned warehouse, alive and not much worse for the wear, all things considered, but surrounded by dead bodies. Her attacker had been killed, but it had taken four Mai to accomplish that feat, and among them was her husband.

She remembers his hand, reached out to her even in death, but doesn't remember anything else. She isn't sure if his eyes were open or closed, or what he was wearing, or even what position he was lying in. And for some reason, all those details matter.

And she remembers her tears as her hand cradled the swell of her belly, and felt the reassuring kick from within, assuring her that Alek's final sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

Perhaps most importantly, she remembers the promise she made then, to the future that could've been. When Alexia is old enough, Chloe will tell her that her daddy died to keep her alive.


	2. Chapter 1

Five years later, and not a single day has passed where Chloe hasn't thought about Alek. Even if her heart would allow for it, she doesn't think it would be possible. Lexie is so much like her father that it takes Chloe's breath away sometimes. When that familiar lump forms in her throat, it's all Chloe can do to shake her head and assure Lexie that nothing's wrong when she asks.

Her hair is the same dirty blonde, her eyes that dark shade of bistre. Even Lexie's mannerisms are achingly familiar; she sleeps so still that Chloe holds a finger under her nose sometimes to assure herself that Lexie's still breathing, like she used to do with Alek.

It's a warm fall morning, and Lexie's sitting at the breakfast nook, furtively stealing glances at her mom as she eats the marshmallows from her bowl of Lucky Charms and leaves the rest behind. Her tiny feet dangle a foot or so above the ground, clad in the glow in the dark pink and black chucks she never wants to take off lately.

"Mom?" she asks, and Chloe glances up from the work she's doing on her laptop. "You know how you told me that my dad is never gonna be around?"

She's not expecting the question, and Lexie's bluntness catches her by surprise. Chloe wonders if there will ever be a time where tears don't sting at her eyes when she's confronted with memories of Alek's death. "Yeah?" she asks cautiously, wondering where Lexie could be going with this. She's always made a point of being as honest as she can with Lexie, while sparing her the unpleasant details. She's tried to keep Alek alive in Lexie's mind, but he's largely just an idea to her, _my dad_ instead of just _Dad._ Regardless, she's pretty sure she's going to need more caffeine to get through this conversation than what's in her system right now, so she reaches for her coffee mug.

Lexie furrows her brows and looks at Chloe for a minute. "If he can't ever come back, how come you don't have a new boyfriend? _I_ have one, so you should. You're old."

Chloe chokes on her coffee, and coughs a few times to clear her airway, eyes watering. It's a lot to process, to say the least. "You have a boyfriend?" She'll let the last part slide, because twenty-eight must be pretty ancient to someone who can still count their age on one hand.

Lexie nods, her ponytail bobbing at the motion. "Aiden. He lets me go first at snack time." The world's so simple to kids sometimes, and the corners of Chloe's mouth tug upwards into a weak smile. "But I wanna know why _you_ don't have one."

The remnants of her smile disappear, and Chloe sighs, not sure how to answer Lexie. It's complicated, far too much for a child to understand. It's never even occurred to her to start dating again, and somehow, five years feels like an eternity and not nearly long enough at the same time. "I still love your daddy very much," she finally says, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. "And it wouldn't be fair to anyone if I couldn't love someone else as much as I love your daddy."

.

.

.

That night, Chloe's still thinking about Lexie's question, agonizing over all she left unsaid. It's beyond Lexie's capabilities right now to understand that as much as Chloe loved Alek, she hated him, too, at least for a while. For leaving her alone, for never holding his baby girl, for sacrificing himself. Most of all, she'd hated him for sheltering her, from judging her unable to handle the entire truth.

She needs to talk to someone about it, she knows; her mother's been telling her that for years. This isn't the sort of conversation you can have with a normal therapist, though, without there being a risk of ending up in an institution. How, exactly, do you explain to a counselor that you're not actually human, but a member of a secret race – or _species_, really – and it's your responsibility to end an epic feud that she doesn't even know exists?

The next best person to talk to is Jasmine, and Chloe looks up her number and dials before she has a chance to talk herself out of it. They haven't talked in years, and Chloe feels like she barely knows her at all, but she takes comfort in knowing that if anyone knew Alek as well as she did, and if anyone misses him as much, it's Jasmine.

Jasmine answers on the second ring, concern clear through the phone line. "Chloe?" she asks, skipping over greetings and pleasantries. "What's wrong?" She sounds like her mother, a mixture of professionalism and concern, and Chloe wonders when that happened.

"Oh. Nothing. Sorry," she says, biting her lip. "I'm not in danger, I mean."

There's a relieved sigh on the other end, and then Jasmine's back to business. "Oh, good. For a second I thought the defenders I'd assigned to you had screwed up."

Chloe sinks back into her bed, shifting to get comfortable. "So you're really the leader of the San Francisco pride now. Wow." She'd heard rumblings, but she's been largely out of touch with the Mai community since Alek's death. She'd severed most of those ties upon burying Alek, and hadn't really looked back.

"Yeah…" Jasmine's quiet for a few seconds, and Chloe can practically hear the gears turning in her head. "So this call. Does that mean you're coming back?" She doesn't quite succeed in masking the hope in her voice.

Chloe knows she has responsibilities, and it was drummed into her head for years that her role was larger than any individual life. What had happened with Alek had changed all that, though, and having Lexie had shifted her focus. Her first priority was being a good mother, which meant ensuring she was there for Lexie as she grew up. That hardly fit in with some superhero Uniter role. "No. I just…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath and staring up at the ceiling. "I was thinking about him."

Jasmine doesn't bother to ask who, and doesn't respond right away. "I think about him a lot, too, you know," she finally says, and there's a weariness and vulnerability in her voice that wasn't there before. "On my way to work, there's this basketball court where a bunch of kids play after school every day, and I can't walk by it without picturing Alek."

"Lexie brought him up today," Chloe returns, not even sure how to explain to Jasmine why it bothered her so much. "She asked me why I haven't moved on, basically."

Jasmine's quiet a bit too long, like she's not sure if Chloe's going to continue. "I think he'd want you to. For you _and_ Lexie."

A tear slips down Chloe's cheek, and this time she doesn't bother to blink the others back. "What's the point, though?" she asks the air as much as she asks Jasmine. "I've already had my great love. How can anything measure up to that? Why even _try?_"

"Because you still have six lives left to live, and they'll be pretty lonely without a guy to share them with," Jasmine answers, as if it's really that easy. "Just because it was in the prophecy, Chloe, doesn't mean you won't be able to find someone to love again. He just won't be _the_ love."

Hearing Jasmine mention the prophecy rattles Chloe, and opens old wounds. "That stupid prophecy," she mutters.

There's guilt in Jasmine's voice when she speaks again. "Look, Chloe, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before. I'm sorry Alek didn't tell you. We just-"

"-thought it would be better to keep me in the dark, right, and not tell me that I wasn't the only one living on borrowed time," she finishes, her voice cracking. All the old anger comes back, and seeps out of her pores. With a dry laugh, she adds caustically, "At least _one_ good thing came out of that prophecy, though. I already know I'll never find someone to love like I loved Alek, so why even try, right?"

"Chloe…" Jasmine's voice is pleading now, and sad, any hint of the earlier professionalism gone.

"This was stupid," Chloe says to herself, and shakes her head. "I shouldn't have called." She hangs up the phone, and swears under her breath. It takes her hours to fall asleep after the conversation, curled up in a ball and crying.

.

.

.

Chloe's in a funk the next morning, just going through the motions as she helps Lexie get ready for school. It's a good thing they have a morning routine, because she's able to get through everything on autopilot – pouring Lexie's cereal, reprimanding her for picking out the marshmallows, standing over her shoulder as she brushes her teeth to make sure she actually uses the toothpaste instead of just swirling the brush around in her mouth a few times. By the time Lexie's dressed, her hair's up, and they're out the door, Chloe's finally snapping out of it.

She even sings along to a song on the radio on her way back home after dropping Lexie off at school, which is probably as close to a good mood as she's capable of right about now.

When she pulls back into her driveway, there's a car there she doesn't recognize. It's a Lexus, nicer than anything her friends could afford, and it puts her on edge immediately. She flexes her fingers as if to make sure her talons still protract; it's been a while since she even tried. They do, and she immediately retracts them as she climbs out of her car, looking around nervously.

"It's just me," she hears a voice, and Jasmine steps out from where she was standing by the porch so Chloe has a clear view. Jasmine's hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and she wears a sharply cut business suit, looking every bit a power executive.

Chloe crosses her arms over her chest, no as soothed as Jasmine probably wants her to be. "What are you doing here? I told you last night, I don't have any interest in coming back into the-"

"Were you telling me the truth last night?" Jasmine interrupts, taking a few steps toward Chloe. "About not seeing a point in loving again?"

The question takes her aback, but Chloe nods, not sure where Jasmine's going with this. "Yeah."

Jasmine sighs, and looks troubled. "Then I think I need to tell you something," she says, sounding resigned. She runs a hand through her hair, a nervous tic, before continuing. "There might be a way to bring Alek back."


End file.
